


Sleight Of Hand

by notpmaHleM



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M, Happy Birthday Meg, Let me give you nonsense, Modern AU, Modern Westeros Robin Hood, Porn With Plot, Smut
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-08
Updated: 2019-10-30
Packaged: 2020-06-24 09:01:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 13,391
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19720483
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notpmaHleM/pseuds/notpmaHleM
Summary: The Night’s Watch send a team south on loan to help the City Watch find a jewel thief. As a part of being undercover, Jon attends a party and meets Daenerys Targaryen. Can he balance duty and attraction?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [jalen_mara](https://archiveofourown.org/users/jalen_mara/gifts).



> A shoutout to Alice for going over this and letting me know it was passable. Thank you, always.
> 
> HAPPY BIRTHDAY MEG! You are my favorite bright spot and I can’t even put into words what your friendship means to me. Thank you for all that you do (it’s a lot people, she’s a goddamn gem) I hope this ridiculous little thing brings a smile to your face. I love you my friend ❤️
> 
> And for everyone reading- yes it will be a 3 parter- I know how it ends, I just couldn’t get it all done in the timeframe needed. Attention is going back to Scars, so this might have to sit idle for a bit, but I’ll be coming back.

~*~*~

The warm night air was filled with music, taking up the pauses in conversations, the mass of elegantly dressed people swarming around like bees as they tittered and talked, touching arms gently as they laughed, fake and real, the large expanse of space filled to the brim with Westerosi’s finest.

Or so they thought.

Swanky affairs were never really his thing, a waste of time, people giving fake compliments only to snark and snivel as soon as backs were turned. Jon hated it all. Only duty to the Watch and loyalty to his brother could make him show up here, dressed respectively enough for being the bastard boy that they whispered about under their breath.

No matter about that though, because he was there mainly to catch a thief, the Night’s Watch sending him and his team down on loan to the City Watch. Bureaucratic injustice if someone was to ask him. Let those fools catch their own bandit if they could and if not, it’s not like the perfumed nobles couldn’t take the hit.

The hit was stolen jewels mainly, some old coins here and there, disappearing without a trace during the duration of the summer festivities, a fancy party every weekend at some passed down family castle or another. Whoever it was, they were clever, no trace of who was doing it, no rhyme or reason that anyone could tell, to the family that was pilfered from, never the same back to back.

Leaning against the bar, he scowled at passers by, despising these events, letting the memories of growing up under the strict Stark rules coat his tongue with bitterness then tried to shove it aside, focus back on his work.

“Everyone set?’ Trying to look inconspicuou he talked into his comms, assuming if anyone caught it they would just think that Ned Stark’s bastard had finally lost it up in the frozen wild of the Wall, cooped up in that snowy wasteland. The team checked in one by one and he rolled his neck, tension giving him a headache as he settled in to watch and wait.

“You’re scaring everyone away from the alcohol.”

A hearty slap caught his back and he craned his head around enough to see the corners of Robb’s blue eyes crinkled with laughter.

“More for me then.” He gave a mock salute with his tumbler, picking out Grenn then Pyp in the crowd, their waitstaff uniforms rather jarring after Night’s Watch fatigues, but the men blending right in, their positions giving them an anonymity of being overlooked. They were just hired help after all.

“It is my engagement party, brother, try and have fun.”

Jon made a noise that could have been ruled as agreement or dismissal, knowing Robb would choose the former, riding too high on what he would call love, or what Jon would retort back, endorphins. “This is me having fun.”

Robb’s sigh settled over him like a cloak, the frustration digging into his skin. “I know you’re here on a job, Jon, but I would like to pretend you are here for me and Marge.”

Guilt flooded through him— this was his family— and caused him to set his glass down, reaching out to squeeze his brother’s shoulder. “I was coming down for this.” He waited until Robb’s gaze landed back on him. “Commander Mormont thought it would be a kill two birds with one stone, type thing. I’m sorry that I’m working while I’m here.”

He was the distant sibling, he knew, never quite able to fit in with the rest of the Starks, a Snow not quite the same, even if his brothers and sisters didn’t realize the difference, didn’t feel the chill that accompanied the long stares of highborn families. But that wasn’t their fault. They loved him as much as he allowed. “I promise I’ll be here for the wedding and the Watch won’t get to be a part of it.”

“I’ll hold you to that.” Fingers dug into his shoulder briefly, Robb mimicking his actions for just a moment, before the sound of his name being called pulled his attention away. “It seems my beloved is looking for me.”

“Be off with you.” Jon jerked his head towards the loud din coming from the ballroom. “I’ll not be the reason you get in trouble.”

“I’ll find you later.” Robb was backing up through the crowd now, a hand held up in seriousness. “And your room is ready for you.”

Blowing out a breath as soon as the familiar head of hair disappeared, he grabbed up his glass of rum, held it up to his lips. “Anything?”

“No.”

“Nope.”

“Hot redhead directly to your North.”

“Grenn. Focus. We are not here for women.” He took a swig of the rum, let it sit and burn on his tongue before swallowing it.

“I can multitask, LC.”

Closing his eyes in frustration, he let out a low growl. “I’m not an LC.”

Their retorts and protests faded out of his hearing, his comms all but forgotten as a small form appeared from nowhere, settling into the open spot next to him, the soft scent of vanilla, a splash of lemon drifting into his nose and clogging his brain.

“Talking to yourself? A sign of intelligence or madness, I wonder?”

If her perfume muddled his mind, then her voice traveled through his bloodstream, landing in the region of his groin, making him turn his hips away from her, not wanting to scare her off.

“I’m sure it’s the latter.” Looking down, his breath caught, heart giving a wild stutter that he was certain echoed throughout the room. Blue eyes were fixed on him, clear and bright, lips that were made for sinning curled up at the ends in a friendly gesture and Jon understood in that moment how men made fools out of themselves over a pretty face.

He held out his hand. “Jon Snow.”

Her hand was dainty and warm, skin soft, grip firm. “Daenerys Targaryen.”

A chorus of noise was in his ear, Grenn’s the loudest and years of practice kept him from flinching, plotting his revenge on his team being put on hold only because he was too focused on the woman in front of him. Regretfully he let go of her hand and motioned to the bartender. “Drink?”

“Please. It’s the only way I’ll make it through this evening.”

That was an interesting comment considering they were in a room full of the who’s who of Westeros. And he knew enough to know the name Targaryen and that Daenerys was the last of her rather odd family— and he wasn’t talking about the silver hair. She was definitely a member of the club.

The bartender eyed her thoroughly as he approached, making Jon want to break the man’s nose, Daenerys oblivious, or not interested as she ordered a Black Rum, then glanced over at his almost empty glass. “Make it two.”

Tipping his head in agreement, Jon tried to remember to stay on task, not lose himself in the odd moment he had found himself. Maybe she could be unknowingly helpful. “So, Daenerys Targaryen, what brings you over here to this quiet little corner when you should be out there mingling?”

It was a bold question, something that was none of his business, but fuck it, he’d see just how far arrogant brashness got him.

She took a healthy swig of her drink, something inside him tightening as she didn’t even shudder, tongue reaching out to swipe her top lip before she cocked her head sideways, giving him an appraising sweep up and down. “I hate these things.” A shoulder moved carelessly, the strap to her black dress slipping and he resisted the urge to slide it back into place. Or completely off of her.

“But you’re here.” He moved his gaze back to her face, took a sip of the rum.

“Mmm, yes. It’s rather silly actually, but do you know how many people in this room hate that I’m here?” Her voice had gotten low and Jon found himself leaning towards her, close enough to feel the heat of her body, feel the solid tug of want. “The women look at me as if I’ll steal their husbands, the husbands all want to find out if the carpet matches the drapes-“

Jon felt his face turn red.

“-and a few young men think they might be the one to settle me down, dive into the rumored Targaryen fortune.” She leaned back up, the smile on her face capable of taking his breath away. “I mainly just like seeing them so upset about it all.”

He chuckled without meaning to, her disdain being equal to his own. “That’s a very odd reason.”

“I’m shunned by society because of my last name, but yet being a Targaryen is the exact reason I’m invited.” That pretty mouth twisted in a grimace. “It’s complicated.”

It really wasn’t, he realized, his family name, or lack of, created the same type of conflict for him. He watched her as she downed the rest of the contents, holding her glass up to let the bartender know she was ready for another.

“So what about you, Jon Snow? Why are you in the corner hiding from all those women that are behind us and giving me the death stare for standing with you?”

Two kindred spirits he mused, leaning onto his elbow, allowing himself to turn fully towards her and give her his full attention. “The women are staring much for the same reason the men stare at you. Some want to piss off their fathers, others their husbands and the Bastard of Winterfell is the quickest way to do so.”

“Well then, Slainte.”

Tipping his glass into hers, he let an idea form, telling himself it had nothing to do with the lust building inside of him but instead gave them both the opportunity to set teeth on edge, maybe allow him some insight on who could be stealing from these rich houses at every important get together.

“Winterfell?” She tapped a finger on her pink bottom lip, making him lose his train of thought and be distracted by wanting to pull that plump offering into his own mouth. “The Stark family?”

Gods, what was wrong with him?

“Aye.” He had to shift his eyes away, try and take the moment to gather himself back together, wondering how this little bite of a woman had him almost tripping over himself. “My brother Robb is to marry Margaery Tyrell.”

“Ah, so that is why you have made an appearance.” A brow lifted. “I’ve never seen you at one of these before.”

“I usually avoid them at all possible cost. Seems I was required for this one.” He looked down at the liquid in his cup, amazed at how something seemed to loosen his tongue just enough to want to keep a conversation going with her. “So here I am, my brotherly duty fulfilled.”

“Well done.” She turned to lean against the bar, look over the crowd but he was finding it difficult to tear his eyes away from her.

The music changed, going from upbeat to slow, some tune that he should probably know, but couldn’t remember, the years in the rigidity of uniform life pushing memories of frivolous things away. He sighed, suddenly tired, wishing that he could be there as him, not on duty, someone that could slip outside and disappear into the crowd of people to wander aimlessly.

But that was not in the cards for him this night and he drew his shoulders back, squaring himself to fall back in command, the slight form of Pyp whisking by in a flurry, helping pull him back to the business at hand.

“I have an idea.” She was looking at him as if she knew the answer to a question he didn’t know he asked, her hand sliding into his, a delightful jolt of electricity crawling up his skin. “Let’s rile up the locals.” She tipped her head, beckoning. “Dance with me.”

More curses filled his ears, trepidation rising in his chest, but also something else, drowning out the awkwardness, shoving away the duty. Longing, both soft and sharp filling his limbs as his grip tightened, fingers lacing between hers, his drink set on the bar.

“I’m a terrible dancer.”

“I don’t care.”

Thoughts of catching a thief fell away with her smile, bright and beautiful, pulling forth his own quick of his lips, stares digging into his back as he let her move them onto the hardwood floor amongst the other couples, drawing her into him, breath catching as she settled against him, senses invaded in the most pleasant of ways.

“You’re not terrible.”

Fingers danced over the nape of his neck and he felt common sense leaving his body under her gentle touch, forgetting all about questioning her on the antics of the Westerosi rich or learning anything useful that might help solve this case and release him back to the wilds of the North. Instead he tightened his arm, closing the small distance between them, let his eyes drift shut at the feeling of her breath on his collarbone.

  
  
  


~*~*~

  
  
  


“Learn anything wrapped around that blonde?”

“Her hair is silver, not blonde.” Jon shook his middle finger at Grenn, leaning back into his chair. “And we were dancing, so fuck off.”

“Did you learn anything?” Sam’s voice was puppy dog eager, making a muscle in his jaw twitch. “She must know something.”

Letting his chair drop back down to the floor with a solid thump, he winced at the sound. If Margaery Tyrell found him leaning back in one of her grandmother’s wingback chairs, she'd probably make Robb disown him. Nothing was quite as terrifying as a Tyrell woman. “We didn’t really get to spend enough time together for me to start asking questions.”

“You had five dances!” Pyp’s voice was incredulous. “What else are you talking about?”

“Unless I wanted to give away what was going on, picking through her brain about who might be capable of stealing from the very people they are dinin’ with, isn’t exactly a five dance conversation.” He could hear the annoyance in his own voice, his team such a pain in the arse and all he wanted to do was go find his room, let himself dream about the feel of Daenerys swaying in his arms.

They had talked, but of normal things that one might when they were two strangers— she was back from Essos, a trial run she had called it, to see if she fit in where she had been born rather than being seen as the foreigner in the land to the east.

Brushing the soft strands of hair from her shoulder, his heart had been squeezed when she admitted she was seen the same in Westeros and floundering her way through.

“Sam, anythin’ on the cameras?” He needed to pull himself away from the thought of Daenerys and his own carefully guarded truths of growing up he had allowed her as he spun and dipped her, eyes drawn to the gentle peaks of rounded flesh pressed to his chest.

“A disturbing amount of people going into rooms that don’t belong to them.” He was scandalized, Jon realized with a snort of amusement. “But other than that, no.”

“Might not be late enough yet.” It was late, but not late, more than likely the purloiner no doubt waiting until the bed hopping had settled down for the night before carrying forth their plans of taking a share of family jewels. “And on that note, I’m going to bed.”

Standing and stretching, he dropped his comms on the desk and smirked at the men who would be stuck in front of the security cameras while he kept up appearances, heading off to the room that had been deemed as his when Robb had first started courting Marge two years ago. “Get a hold of me if anything happens.”

Turning his back on the chorus of groans, he closed the door to their borrowed office and began his walk through the maze of Highgarden, following the runners in the hallways that would lead him to the east wing and then passing by the endless doors that would lead him to his corner room overlooking the carefully tended briars, a taunting reminder he was penned in for the night.

Movement in the dim light caught his eye and upon getting closer the familiar sight of moonlight hair made him pause, almost stumble as he finally got a good look at her, bag slung over her shoulder, a wrinkle in her brow.

“I think I’m lost.”

It was a hissed whisper and he could see the faint blush on her cheeks as he stopped, well within polite personal distance, something inside of him wanting to be bold as much as he wanted to drop his gaze and shy away. “Where are you supposed to be?”

“The guest rooms in the west wing.” The strap of her black dress had slid down her shoulder again, his fingers twitching with want.

“You’re definitely lost.” He curled his hands into a fist to keep from touching and gave her an easy smile. “I can take you.” He hesitated, nerves strumming tightly, pulse beginning to pick up with the giant leap he was about to take. “Or, my room is right there.”

It seemed to stretch on for eternity, the silence as her mouth rounded in surprise, long lashes blinking slowly as she digested his offer, his heart in his throat making him want to rescind his obviously foolish proposition and scurry into his room, the only problem being she stood between him and the door to hide behind.

Clearing her throat she closed her mouth and straightened her shoulders. “Your room sounds much better than mine.” The sultry smile made him blush from head to toe. “Show me the way, Jon.”

Excitement and disbelief coursed through him, a heady dose of lust as he closed the distance to usher her forward. With a hand pressed to the small of her back, the other went behind his own, offering his team watching in the camera a once again glimpse of his middle finger.

  
  


~*~*~

  
  


This had not been part of her original plan, being shoved roughly against the closed door, a large hand cradling the back of her head to keep it from colliding with the hard surface as the indecent mouth of Jon Snow's closed over hers.

Gods, he tasted good, rum still on the tip of his tongue as it flicked along hers, mind spinning with sensations as she arched into him, the press of his firm body sending tingling throughout her own.

When his lips left hers to travel down her neck, sharp teeth and wet tongue, creating a heat between her thighs, she scrambled to get a hold of his neck, to keep her balance, completely unnerved at how aroused she already was.

Had been— the first stirrings of want had come when she seen him leaning against the bar, looking somehow both fierce and sad, striking features suiting the scowl that has been across his face.

And now he was pushing the straps of her dress off her shoulders, the contrast of rough beard and soft lips dragging deliciously down new found skin, her nails digging into him as she rounded her shoulders and tried to hurry him along, the ache of need in her breasts that were now bared, her head finally tipping back into the door as he found a pebbled peak, the pull of his mouth making her whimper.

She needed more, wanted to do her own exploring of the muscle and sinew she could feel under the thin layer of his shirt, wanted his weight pressing her into the mattress, to know what he’d feel like inside of her.

Pulling at his shirt, he let go of her nipple with a pop, leaving it shiny with saliva, red and begging for more attention, but he paused to remove the fabric barrier between them, stepping back in close to cup her face, kiss her until her toes curled in the ridiculous heels she was wearing.

“Bed, now, please.” Fuck, the press of skin was making her dizzy and he seemed to feel the same urgency, hands sliding up the short skirt to firmly grasp her arse, enough to pull her off her feet as he moved them with an accuracy that told her he was familiar with the layout of the room, his lips wrapped firmly around her bottom one, tugging and laving in a steady rythmn.

Suddenly she was on her back and he was straddling her hips, this handsome stranger, setting her blood on fire, talented and rough hands creating excitement, lust tangling up as she grabbed at the button of his pants, pressing the flat of her hand to the bulge in there.

“Gods, you’re so fuckin’ pretty.” His pupils were blown wide, eyes shiny as he caught her hand and dipped back down, the scrape of his beard along her neck making her shiver.

“So are you.” Craning her head, she bit at his jaw, the cords of his throat, wanting to taste the salt of his skin, inhale the scent of him, feeling the ripple of lean muscle down his back as she slid her hands down, under his clothing, dragging her nails over that perfectly shaped arse that had been teasing her all night.

“Fuck.” It was a low groan from the crook of her neck where he had been no doubtedly leaving a mark she’d need to cover up in the morning.

He shifted, moving down and she lifted her hips helping him remove her dress, her chest heaving with excitement as he looked at her with a hungry expression. Fingers hooked in the bright red of her panties, a sharp whine leaving her throat as they followed the same path as her dress, her heels catching on the sheets of the bed before those were removed, one by one, dropping to the floor loudly.

Then clever fingers were squeezing, plucking at her nipples, her hands covering his for rougher handling as he shifted, moving between her thighs and nudging them further apart.

“Condoms?” He was gorgeous and she thought adorably sweet from the short amount of time she’d spend with him in the ballroom, but letting him take her bare was a little out of her comfort zone.

He froze, mouth open for a moment while he thought, her eyes drawn the the dark line of hair disappearing into his waistband and she suddenly thought she wouldn’t mind, whatever his answer, needing to see his cock, ready to take him in her mouth and see if he’d lose control.

“Nightstand.”

Thank the gods, otherwise she would have been very irresponsible.

“Please continue then.”

The sweet smile made her melt, a confusing feeling in the surrounding haze of lust, the ache in her cunt becoming almost unbearable and she almost jumped when he dropped lower, placing an open mouth kissed below her belly button, then another lower still, her hips already moving on their own accord, needing something between her legs, needing him to fill her up already.

But when his hands dropped to her thighs, shoving them even wider, her breath caught, her sluggish brain catching up with his intentions, her fingers finding his dark hair, the taste of excitement filling her mouth.

It had been a long time since a lover had offered this particular treat to her and none on their very first encounter and she felt her control slip, the wetness increase at her core, her eyelids fluttering shut as he dragged his knuckles through her heat.

“You’re soaked.” The noise in his throat sounded approving, a growl that echoed inside of her, need making her speechless. “I bet you taste as good as you smell.”

Before she could even fully process that tidbit of dirty talk, his mouth had closed over her folds, his tongue firmly swiping up through them, nose nudging her aching clit. And then he proceeded to work her over, sweep her up in a riptide of pleasure, losing all sense of time before finally bright lights exploded behind her eyelids as she was overcome, her orgasm pulling her apart around him.

She regained her senses after who knows how long with him still licking lazily at her cunt, the sensitivity making her whimper helplessly, push at his head and he nipped at the inside of her thigh as if annoyed she was pulling him away from his favorite treat.

But he seemed to get over it quickly, leaving her shivering in a blaze of fire, teeth dragging back up her body, wet mouth and beard leaving a trail of her satisfaction until he was hovering above her mouth, ever polite, letting her choose if she wanted to taste herself on his lips.

Polite was not why she was in this bed.

Reaching up, she hooked an arm around his neck, a hard tug dropping him down against her, mouth taking his with the edge of a bite, his groan vibrating through her teeth before she opened, tongue moving out to take from him, hips rutting mindless against hers, the roughness of fabric through sodden folds and she was reminded how empty she was.

Not ready to let go of his mouth, her fingers moved down his back, nails showing her journey until she reached his pants, pushing until he lifted up, balanced on one elbow beside her head and helped shove at them. Breaking the kiss, he panted above her, breath falling on her mouth, her lips tingling as she hooked her toes in the material, helped force them over his round arse, wrapping her hand around his cock as soon as it was free.

“Jon Snow.” She hummed in the back over her throat, more than pleased at her discovery, watching his eyelids slam shut at her touch. Giving him a stroke from root to tip, she nipped at his lip, anticipation threading through her, ready, oh so ready to stop their teasing. “I hope you know how to use this properly.”

Suddenly the dark eyes opened, the predatory look making her want to writhe and whimper against the sheets, the offered challenge accepted. “If you have a voice left by the time we’re done-“ a calloused hand came up to stroke lightly down her neck, “you can let me know.”

“Get your fucking pants off right now.” Fuck, she knew the inside of her thighs were covered with fresh arousal and she propped herself up, leaning and twisting to open the nightstand, a little frantic and hoping desperately he didn’t care that she was rummaging through his things as she finally found the string of foil packets, pulling them out triumphantly and falling back to the pillows.

He was finally naked, Gods he was naked, lean and a little mean with a few scars littering his cut body and there was the sound of her blood roaring in her ears as she panted, out of patience. “Would you like me to do the honors?”

“I’ll do it.” His hands flexed with his words before he finally grabbed, tearing one off and then open. “I need those hands away from my cock right now.”

“Oh?” That meant he must be hanging over the edge too. Good. She hoped for wild and rough, something that would follow her around the next day. “What if I was to use my mouth instead?”

The teasing was definitely worth it, his stare pinning her back to the bed as he crawled back between her legs, now covered cock flushed and ready, a hand catching under her knee and shoving it up and out of the way. “Next time.”

There was no time for a retort because his body was covering hers, no longer taking his time and with a sharp snap of hips, he was seated deep, her walls straining and stretching around his length, his face buried against her neck, the muscles under her hands quivering as he kept a tight leash on his control.

“Oh, gods.” She rolled her hips, deliciously full, hiking her free leg over his hip. “Please.”

He stole her breath, kissing her, a messy clash of lips and teeth as he began to move, her mind spinning, senses full, hanging on desperately for the ride as she gave over her control, letting him do as he pleased.

And as he pleased was steady and hard, each thrust filling the room with the sound of flesh, the wet sound of her welcoming cunt, her sharp noises as he filled her over and over, building her higher and higher, holding her hostage there as she clawed his back, offered her neck for his teeth, tried to keep herself together around him.

But when he hiked her leg up higher, it was a futile effort, the angle changing enough to make her see stars, his continued pounding breaking her apart, exploding into a million little shards as she sobbed and shook, pulling him tighter and she clenched around him until he was off rhythm, bucking wildly, a long drawn out groan as he lost his control.

She was limp underneath him when he finally collapsed, a sticky mess of skin and she felt wonderfully used and sore, her leg released as he slid out of her and muscles burned as she tucked the limb over the back of his thighs, blowing out a hard breath as she skimmed her fingertips over the back she had been doing her best to shred only moments ago.

“What language was that?”

It was a muffled sound coming from her neck and she slid her hand up into his hair, the tie falling out long ago and letting the soft curls free to tickle her skin. She wasn't sure which look she preferred on him. “Hmmm? What?”

He raised his head, expression soft and doe eyed and something inside of her clenched with the realization that she might be in all sorts of trouble. That feeling only compounded when he propped himself up and cupped her face, thumb skimming over her bottom lip.

“You were speaking something besides the common tongue.” His face flushed and how in the world could a man fuck her like that and then turn so bashful. “When you get close, I mean.”

She was so truly and utterly fucked.

“Valyrian.” She cleared her throat, her own cheeks warm, something about his gentle curiosity making her struggle to find her equilibrium.

“It sounds nice.” His voice was colored heavy with exhaustion and he pressed a light kiss to her mouth before he levered himself off of her. “You want to stay here tonight or do you want me to walk you back to your room?”

She watched his lovely arse as he walked to what she assumed was the bathroom and disappear for a few moments, coming out without the condom and a wet washcloth in his hand. She should leave, go back to her own room before she took a misstep in her dangerous game. She had an itch, he scratched it and now it was time to go.

“I’ll stay.” That was the wrong answer, she knew it, but his face lit up like fireworks and he made his way back to the bed, handing her the warm cloth and started pulling back the covers.

A little flustered, she moved awkwardly until she was off the blankets, wiping herself down before he closed in on her, gathering her up and settling them down into the soft bed. Apparently he was a cuddler, something else to add to the list of why she shouldn’t be doing this.

Instead, she let him curve around her, drawing nonsense patterns on his forearm and relaxing into his warmth as time started to tick by, the hour turning into the span where it was no longer night nor morning, his steady breathing trying to lull her to sleep.

But, she couldn’t let that happen, keeping herself awake until he was fully under and then sliding away from him, letting him shift against the loss of her body and then settle before her feet quietly hit the floor, leaving her dress in a heap at the end of the bed and scooped up the bag that had been discarded when he first started kissing her.

Closing the bathroom door behind her and wincing at the bright lights, she blew out a breath, gave herself a long look in the mirror, congratulating herself on looking well fucked before digging through her things.

A clinging pair of black pants and long sleeved shirt were slid over her flesh, hiding beard burn and love bites, her tangled hair gathered and a tight cap pulled over to hide the easy to spot feature. With a deep breath for courage, she peeked her head out the door, seeing Jon still sound asleep.

It was now or never.

Closing the door, she picked up an empty bag then crossed to the small window above the toilet, easing herself up, quietly working it open until fresh air tickled her nose, muting the smell of sex that clung to her.

Working herself out on the ledge, she grabbed her phone, a cryptic message of- ready- sent and then she pushed herself farther out, not daring to look down as she forced herself to her feet.

If she hadn’t given into the urge to let Jon Snow ravish her, then she’d be doing this from her own room, walking out the door instead of sneaking out the bloody window of a bloody castle and risking plummeting to her death. But she found fingerholds in the old stone and was as nimble as a cat, stretching out until she reached the sill of another window.

With the wind tickling her face, she pushed off, using momentum to move across the dizzying space, holding her breath until her feet found purchase and she was steady again.

She wanted to laugh, the lengths she was going to because she’d wanted laid, finding that she wanted to go back into that room and ride his dick until he was the ruined mess beneath her, a reward she told herself, for once she got this job done.

Crouching like some sort of castle ornament, she worked open the window to the dark room and slid inside, nary a sound made as she dropped to the floor. This was the room of Renly Baratheon, whom had no doubtedly shacked up in Loras Tyrell’s room. Why they even insisted on separate rooms was something she didn’t understand, but as she nipped his gaudy gold watch adorned with rubies, off the dresser, dropping it into her bag, she was glad of it.

Stopping at the door, she listened for footfalls, checking her phone to see the -all clear- message before letting herself out in the hallway. She had studied the room charts for days, knew exactly where everyone would be and planned on who would be hit tonight, go home with a few less belongings.

  
  


~*~*~

  
  


“You know who Jon Snow is, right?”

She paused in the entryway, narrowing her eyes at Tyrion Lannister, the man whom she had just handed the carefully stolen goods. They had a system worked out, her team small and vetted carefully, Missandei’s magic of tech letting them jam the security cameras, replay everything on a loop long enough for Dany to make her move.

“Robb Stark’s brother.” She lifted a shoulder, a little embarrassed that she was being called out on her late night rendezvous. She’d treated everyone equally, no last name got a late pass, even stealing a diamond eyed silver wolf brooch from Sansa Stark, while the woman had snored quietly.

“That he is.” Tyrion looked an equal measure of amusement and concern. “He’s also Night's Watch.”

That knocked some of the wind out of her sails, a sharp stab of sadness, because, of course he was, before her mind started grasping at straws, not quite ready to let her newfound bed partner slip away so easily. “Seems like an excellent alibi to me.”

“Daenerys….”

“Did they get their donation?” It was rude to interrupt, but she didn’t want to talk about Jon Snow any longer, wanted to know that her risks were paying off. The they in question was an orphanage in Flea Bottom. The stolen jewels and coins fenced in Essos, then brought back to Westeros and given to those in need. The first round of their profits had gone to a hospital in King’s Landing, but she hoped soon to be able to reach farther with the money, share some of the greedy’s wealth.

“Yes, this morning in fact.” He scowled at her. “If you get caught, we won’t be-“

“I won’t get caught.” It was said firmly, offering no room for anymore questions. She wouldn’t, she would be careful.

“Fine then.”

With a huff of exasperation, she watched Tyrion leave, heading out on his way to meet their smuggler, the vibration in her pocket pulling her from her musing. You need to hurry- was the message sent and she inwardly cursed at herself, knowing they only had so much time before the loop of video feed became suspicious.

Quiet as a mouse she moved through the long and twisting halls, relieved to see Renly’s room still dark and empty as she slipped back in, retraced her steps until she found herself back on the ledge, needing to muster up her bravery to make the high leap to put herself back onto Jon’s window sill.

She made it, the sky beginning to give warning of breaking light and she slipped back into the room, stripping back out of her clothes and shoving them to the bottom of her duffel.

To calm her adrenaline fueled body, she washed her face, hands, contemplated a shower before deciding she’d rather wait and enjoy one with Jon. Finishing up her ablutions, she let herself back into the room, muscles relaxing when she found him still asleep, dark lashes fanned across the pale of his cheek, hair a messy riot around his head.

Gods, what was that swooping feeling in her stomach?

Padding naked across the hardwood, she slipped into bed, her heart giving a traitorous extra thump as he gathered her up in his sleep. But she was still wide awake, body humming with awareness and she pushed at him, enjoying how he complied even in slumber. Once he was on his back she straddled him, letting her mouth map a journey of his hard lines, enjoying how he gasped, hips jumping when she palmed his cock, letting his eyes blink slowly at her before she swallowed him down.

Yes, she thought sometime later, her hands on his chest, her hair in her eyes as she rode him rapidly, enjoying the sight of him sprawled beneath her, fire racing through her veins— this _was_ the perfect alibi.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I simply want to make sure you know the job.” Tyrion’s tone held a scolding and she bristled at it-- insulted he would treat her as a mere child. “Your dalliance with Jon Snow—“
> 
> “Got me an excellent alibi and the bonus of multiple orgasms.” She rather enjoyed seeing him go beet red, Missandei’s laugh turning into a cough. “So I don’t see why we need to keep talking about it. Unless you want all the scandalous details?”
> 
> “I want to know why a man of the Night’s Watch is down here when he’s never been so inclined to go to these extravaganzas before. And of all times, now.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Surprise! I managed to jot down another chapter of this for AU month.. 
> 
> A huge thank you to my usually writing partner- now beta who had to read the second chapter of her own birthday fic. Happy October, Meg 😂
> 
> And now, without further delay—

**~*~*~*~**

“What do you mean there is no footage?” Annoyance was high in the bright light of the morning, his team having rudely dragged him from the warm softness of a drowsy Daenerys, back into the office after a few claims of stolen items were buzzing about Highgarden. 

“There is nothing. We had someone posted all night.” Sam’s voice was squeaky with indignation as he wore a look of bafflement, highlighted by the dark circles under his eyes, and jowls slackened with the lack of sleep. “You can look at them yourself if you don’t believe me.”

“I believe you.” He rubbed a rough hand over his face, wondering if she was still in his bed, looking like a goddess amongst the muted colors of the bedsheets. “How many people were robbed?”

“Six.” Grenn was scowling. “That we know of so far.  _ Some  _ people haven’t made it back to their own rooms yet.”

It was bait hanging on the end of a hook, and for once in his life he didn’t rise to take it, a feeling rolling through him akin to smugness as he settled into a chair. “When is the City Watch getting here?”

Edd checked his watch, the scowl on his face his normal look. “Soon. If you’re not going to blow your cover, I’d suggest you leave and join the rest of the guests, now.”

That wasn’t going to be a particular hardship.

“Aye.” He wanted to be in on the hunt, to dig through the minor details with the rest of his team, but he also needed to think ahead, plan on being in it for the long run. “We need to figure out how they beat the security cameras.”

“Working on it.” Sam was already immersed in the world of technology, the steady clacking of keys letting them know he was trying to solve the puzzle.

“Right then.” Jon stood, looking around at the defeated faces of his team. “Whoever is doing this is obviously good or we wouldn’t have been sent down in the first place.” It probably was rather egotistical to think they could figure it out on the first try. “Can you imagine how put out the Watch would be if we’d solved this already?”

“I’m sure that’s the reason.” Grenn‘s tone was slightly mocking. “It has nothing to do with a certain woman...”

She certainly didn’t hurt the situation, though he’d be damned to the seven hells before he admitted  _ that _ . “I don’t know what to tell you lads, other than this isn’t the first time I’ve had sex and I don’t plan on it being the last, so, no Grenn, it doesn’t.” 

There was another grumble from the other man, but he didn’t care at that particular moment. No, his mind was still too occupied with remembering what Daenerys had looked like underneath him, soft and sweet, a fire that would melt a man from the inside out and make him welcome the flames. And if this case allowed him to selfishly spend more time with her, well then, he’d be glad of it.

“I’m going back upstairs. Have the Watch pull everyone in for questioning after breakfast, assumin’ they’ll be here by then. And for fuck’s sake, don’t blow your covers.”

A string of muttering was heard behind him as he left, but he didn’t spare them another glance, mind already moving back up to his borrowed room, still too far gone in a sex haze to try and focus on the robberies. No, that could come later after he’d had his fill of the silver haired woman that was hopefully still in his bed.

And she was, blinking like an owl as she sat up with the sound of his feet on the floor, the sheet pooled around her waist, lovely little tits out for him to admire.

“Good morning.” He could feel his face turning red even as his groin tightened. “Again.”

Her smile was bright as she hummed, another twitch to his cock as he remembered her making close to the same sound with her mouth wrapped around him. “You’re up early.”

“It’s not  _ that  _ early.” He couldn’t help but chuckle at her pout. It had been nearly dawn when she had woken him up for an invigorating round two, but while he had been filled with energy after, she had rolled over and fallen asleep as if they’d been up all night.

He wished they had.

But… they still had time, if she was willing.

“Are they serving breakfast yet?”

The way she was looking at him made him think she was hoping not, her eyes roving over him a little predatory, almost making him want to preen— a strange sensation for him. But, she seemed to have enjoyed his body thoroughly, and when it came down to it, that was really all he wanted, to see her pink cheeked and red lipped, taking her pleasure greedily.

“Not yet.” He stepped a bit closer to the bed, the sound of his own breathing loud in his ears. Could she hear the pounding of his heart from where she sat, sly smile on that pretty mouth? “We’ve got a bit of time still.”

“Oh?” She shifted forward and onto her knees, the chill of the morning air drawing her nipples up tight. Or maybe it was arousal, either way it was an arresting sight, her long braid falling over her shoulder as she reached for him, slender fingers hooking into his belt and his brain almost stopped, his feet propelling him forward until he was at the edge of the bed. “Whatever shall we do while we wait?”

He slipped his fingers into the silkspun hair as she rose up, meeting his mouth in a demanding slide, spinning his equilibrium around until he was just a creature of feeling— plump lips, wet mouth, soft skin. 

Gluttonous, he fed off her noises, hands roaming as he pushed her down to the mattress, shucking his clothing as he went until he was just as bare as she was. The sweet taste of her flesh made him crave more, moving until he was between her thighs, gorging himself of the flushed pink until she was shaking and mewling, sated and slumped against the pillow.

Then, as he slid up her body, aching cock wrapped and ready, he covered her mouth with his own, giving her back her own flavor, being swept up as he slid inside of her, grunting in his pleasure as she drew him in deeper, thighs spreading wider, welcoming, encouraging him to fuck her into the mattress, a hand braced on the headboard to keep herself from slamming into it.

And when she finally broke underneath him, her body arching into his, he followed with a low shout, his teeth biting into the crook of her neck to hold her twitching body still, the sharp edge of pain drawing out her pleasure, his own drowning him, wave after wave until he collapsed onto her sweaty, slim body, humming with the aftershocks as he nuzzled where he had just gnawed.

Gods, if he'd known she had been at all the summer parties, he would have volunteered to come down from the very start. Her blue eyes were still fuzzy as he propped himself up on his elbows, running a thumb over her swollen lips. 

He’d go to every ridiculous, pompous event he could get invited to, if it meant she would be there.

With a groan of regret he slid out of her, off of her, trying discreetly to rid himself of the condom, skin pin-pricking with enjoyment as she ran a hand over his ribs, rolling back into her to linger over her lips, feel her melt against him. He tried to remember that he had a job to do while he was here, not just spend all of his time fucking the beautiful Daenerys Targaryen.

“So…” The gentle glide of fingers up his spine had him arching towards her touch, almost a rough purr as she moved them to the nape of his neck, stalling out there before swirling.  _ Gods, had he ever been touched like that? _ “I think I’m ready for breakfast now.”

He was sure his grin was so wide that it would consume him whole. “Well then, it wouldn’t be very gallant of me to withhold a lady from her food, now would it?”

  
  


~*~*~

  
  


The clatter of dishes had halted for a moment at their appearance in the dining room. Jon was certain no one except his fellow Watch had seen Daenerys entering his room— or exiting for that matter— and yet all eyes were glued to them as he paused, dumbfounded for a moment before following along in the trail of scented lotion she had slathered all over her creamy flesh, fresh from the shower they had shared, where he took pride in getting her off again, this time around his fingers. 

But, other than escorting her to the table and pulling out her chair, settling into the only empty one, which happened to be between her and his grinning brother, there was no sign flashing above them that said—  _ recently copulated— _ or so he thought.

“What’s that on your neck?”

He hissed as Robb whispered and pushed on the purple bruise in question, a souvenir from the ecstatic shower adventure and Daenerys’ eager mouth. He slapped his brother’s fingers away, glancing to his side to see his gorgeous companion engaged in conversation with Myrcella Baratheon. “Knock it off.”

Robb’s delighted cackle earned him an elbow to the ribs from his brother, and then a scolding look from his beloved, Jon feeling a small measure of gratitude for the woman with her quiet threats, leaving him a moment of peace in which to scoop up a mouthful of eggs.

It didn’t last long though, a daintier hand covering his, turning his attention from the plate in front of him to the silver siren at his side.

“The thief struck again last night.” Her voice was a low murmur, blue eyes wide in shock. “Apparently things were stolen while people were still in their rooms. How horrible.”

Well, Jon would be willing to put money on how many people that claimed their precious jewels were removed in their sleeping presence were actually  _ not  _ in their assigned beds, but had the wisdom to keep his mouth shut. 

“Aye.” He didn’t confirm what he was agreeing with, but it seemed to be enough, fingers squeezing his for a moment before she reached for her teacup. A sudden thought came to him as he took another bite of food, and he hurried to swallow before leaning in close. “You don’t have anything missing, do you?”

“No.” That gaze focused on him again, warming him clear to his toes. “I was wearing the only valuables I have with me.” Those full lips turned up, making him a little dizzy. “And you know they weren’t in  _ my  _ room.”

Gods, he was never going to survive her, and he’d only been in her presence for a short amount of time. “I do remember that, very well.”

A thrill ran through him as a flush stained her cheeks, a lovely color not unlike the one that tinted her flesh when she was consumed by pleasure, a shade that was quickly becoming his favorite. But before he could come up with something decidedly wicked to say— not that he was proficient in clever words as it was— the very official group from the City Watch made their grand entrance. He sat back in his chair, bringing his professionalism back to the top.

“I regret to say—” Lady Olenna Tyrell looked to be in a red-hot fit of anger. “—that someone has dared to steal from my guests. The City Watch is here to conduct interviews and get a list of the stolen items.” Her scowl could be felt even from across the room. “ _Although,_ _a lot of bloody good it will do with these idiots in charge.”_

Her parting jab was said low, but loud enough to reach the now red ears of the man in charge and a few guests, one of them being Jon and he fought back a chuckle. He would almost sympathize with the City Watchmen, except that they were clearly over their heads, or his team wouldn’t be here.

“Thank you, Lady Olenna.” The man didn’t sound very thankful, put rather put out by their hostess’ snarky words. “My name is Bronn and I will be setting up in the next room there. As you finish your breakfast, we will call you in and take your statements.” 

It would be suspicious to the rest of the guests if he didn’t join them, and he hoped that Bronn was a good enough actor to keep the fact that they had met the previous morning off his weather worn face. But there was no hurry, so he savored his breakfast, appetite large after he’d spent the night and morning working it up, his eyes sliding over to Daenerys, who was also relishing each bite.

“You made me hungry, Jon Snow.”

A hand squeezed his thigh and the gods be good, he was hungry  _ again _ , but not for anything sitting on his plate. “Don’t tease me, Daenerys. I’m weak.”

She made a noise in the back of her throat that reminded him of sex, of the sound she made as he slid inside of her, and it was all he could do to not pull her to her feet and find the nearest closet. One night and she had officially turned him into an addict. 

Returning to the Wall was going to be torture.

Instead of dwelling over it, he turned back to the bacon in front of him, enjoying the meal that was yards above the slop he was used to, counting himself luckier than normal to be eating good food next to excellent company and he almost winced at how corny he sounded.

He was saved from himself by a lower ranking official coming in, hands holding a list awkwardly.

“Jon Snow and Dan... Dayna—“

“Daenerys.” He cleared his throat, blush rising in his cheeks as she turned to him, blue eyes wide and dare he say— _ pleased— _ at the fact he stepped in and kept the man from butchering her name

“Right-oh, Daenerys Targaryen. We are ready for the both of you.”

It was only luck of the draw, he reminded himself, or perhaps a meddling brother of the Night's Watch, but he kept his face straight as he wiped his mouth with a linen napkin of better quality than his bedsheets at the wall, and offered a hand out to Daenerys after he stood, politeness an excuse to touch her again.

She didn’t seem to mind, giving his fingers an extra squeeze before relinquishing her hold, allowing him to guide her forward while they were led to a study filled with wood and books, the smell of dust lingering in the shelves. 

Eyes flickered over the pair of them, and Jon was relieved to find Bronn seemed capable of the charade. He was annoyed at the way the man’s gaze lingered on Daenerys, chastising himself for being jealous. 

One night of sex didn’t make her his, but he selfishly wanted to consume more of her time. 

“Jon Snow and Daenerys Targaryen?”

“Aye.”

“Yes.”

Bronn made marks next to what he assumed was their names before looking back up. “I won’t ask you why you’re here, but I would like to know if you have anything missing.”

“No.”

“No.” 

“Alright.” He made another mark. “Next thing I need are alibis. Can you tell me your whereabouts from the hour of the ghost to the hour of the nightingale?”

Clearing his throat, he scratched nervously at the back of his neck. He was far from ashamed—In fact he felt a celebration was in order—but he didn’t want to  _ share _ with everyone. And then there was the pesky fact that he was technically on duty. 

But what better way to be undercover than to partake in activities?

“In my room.”

“All night?”

_ Soft skin, silver hair.  _

“Aye.”

“Anyone can say that, can you prove it?”

“Security cameras.”

“I was there.”

They spoke over each other, his heart giving an extra thump as she turned up a brilliant smile, batting her eyelashes slowly and demurely, letting Bronn process all that was said. 

“Excuse me?”

She stared at her fingernails while both men stared at her before lifting her chin, a hand coming up to lay on his forearm. “I was with Jon, all night.”

The little wink she gave him might possibly end him right there, his poor system not used to running wide open, and he felt the heat rise in his face, but gathered his bravado to smile back at her, shrug a shoulder at the Commander of the City Watch. “We were definitely too preoccupied to steal anythin’.”

She fucking  _ beamed  _ at him, his pulse kicking up another notch and  _ seven fucking hells _ he never wanted to go back to the cold as fuck Wall.

“Nothing missing?”

“Nothing at all.” She gave the ring on her finger a little twirl. “Now, Commander, you have our whereabouts, nothing was stolen and we definitely did not see anything suspicious. May we take our leave?”

The look Bronn was giving him made him inwardly cringe, certain he’d be defending his actions as soon as they left Highgarden, knowing he would do it again, and hopefully again at the very next opportunity, his mouth pulling up in a sneer at the older man.

To his credit, the other man didn’t bat an eye, dismissing them with a shake of his head, and Jon climbed to his feet, holding his hand out to help Dany up. His skin warmed, something else pleasantly tightening in his belly as she locked her fingers with his, and pulled him down the hall before ducking into a closet.

It may have been larger than his quarters at the Wall he realized half a heartbeat before Dany was up on her toes, magic mouth fused against his, head spinning with the taste of her, and he wrapped his arms around her crushing that enticing form to his chest.

When she finally let him breathe, he felt his eyelids flutter open to see her with a pleased look, tongue swiping over her bottom lip and blue eyes still out of focus. He squeezed the handful of arse he had, enjoying her throaty moan, how her hips arched up into him.

“Well, Jon Snow, you were an unexpected and delightful surprise.”

“Aye.” He couldn’t resist the urge to kiss her again, light and lingering. “Same goes for you, Daenerys.”

He felt the loss, an ache somewhere deep inside of him when she stepped back, hands running down his chest before the loss of contact.

“Maybe I’ll see you at the next one.”

Unable to stop himself, he smiled. “Maybe.”

  
  


~*~*~

  
  


“Storm’s End will present its own challenges.”

Tyrion’s voice pulled her out of the daydream she had been caught in, fingers idly twirling her hair as she had been wishing someone else had been doing it. Five days after she had left Highgarden, and she was still living with the ghost of his touch, bruises along her hips still fading, remembering the intensity in his eyes, what he tasted—

“Daenerys, are you interested in anything I have to say?”

She sighed in annoyance, rolling her eyes before focusing on the man sitting across from her, dropping her hands flat to the table. “You’ve been saying it on repeat for the last three days. We know what to do, and I’ve already seen the plans for accommodations—“  _ and she’d never admit that her heart gave an extra thump, heat coiling in her belly with the confirmation of one Jon Snow listed.  _ “—so please forgive me if I have it memorized already.”

“I simply want to make sure you know the job.” Tyrion’s tone held a scolding and she bristled at it-- insulted he would treat her as a mere child. “Your dalliance with Jon Snow—“

“Got me an excellent alibi and the bonus of multiple orgasms.” She rather enjoyed seeing him go beet red, Missandei’s laugh turning into a cough. “So I don’t see why we need to keep talking about it. Unless you want all the scandalous details?”

“I want to know why a man of the Night’s Watch is down here when he’s never been so inclined to go to these extravaganzas before. And of all times,  _ now _ .”

She understood the insinuation. She, of course, had wondered the same thing as soon as Jon’s identity had come to light. But by then she has already fucked him into a stupor and robbed Highgarden. There were no take backs.

“All the more reason to keep a close eye on him.” She gave a demure smile. “How does that saying go? Keep your friends close and—“

“Your enemies closer.” Tyrion’s annoyed huff pleased her a little too much. “Well, if your going to include him in your nightly routine, please maybe try some pillow talk and find out exactly what he’s doing there?”

Well manicured nails drummed against the scarred wood of the table. “As if he’ll be able to speak by the time I’m done with him. Now, tell me, when does the next shipment leave for Essos? There’s a children’s hospital in need of some new equipment.”

  
  


~*~*~

  
  


“What if they don’t show?”

Jon looked up from where he had been brushing lint off his jacket— the annoyance of having to wear it combating with the thrill of seeing Daenerys’ name of the guest list— and turned to Sam, unable to keep the frustration out of his voice. “Then they don’t show.”

“Whoever is doing it doesn’t hit  _ every  _ party.”

Eyes rolling, he sometimes wondered how he put up with his Night’s Watch brothers, his fingers deftly closing the cuffs of his jacket. “And we haven’t figured out their pattern, so that’s why we are here. We’ll hit every one until we catch them.”

A grumbling noise came from Grenn and he fought the urge to smirk, knowing it was stemming from the jealousy that Jon actually got to participate in the festivities, something he once hated, now suddenly more interesting.

“Cheer up lads.” He gave Pyp a smarting slap on the back as he passed by, ready to leave the room and transform from the man of the Night’s Watch to the broody, bastard brother of Robb Stark. “At least it’s warmer in the south.”

  
  


~*~*~

  
  


She was purposely not seeking him out, taking her time to mingle with the crowd, flirt shamelessly with Renly because she knew it wouldn’t go anywhere, combing the crowd for their expensive baubles, ignoring hardened eyes and staying away from the corner of the room where some of the men had settled, drinks and cigars being passed around. She much preferred events with dancing. At least there was less reason to try and make small talk.

It was a game she was playing with herself, seeing how long she could go without caving in to her persistent lust— annoyed that it was sitting right next to her need to do her job, something she’d never dealt with before.

But boredom crawled across her skin, giving her an itch that she wanted to scratch, a way to distract herself until later,  _ much later,  _ the need to get away from all the other nobles that she didn’t fit in with.

So, she went to find her distraction.

He was sprawled in a leather chair when she finally laid eyes on him, a tumbler of dark liquid resting precariously on his knee, legs crossed as he watched the room.  _ Like a wolf _ , she mused, hoping that it was she, he was seeking as he sat there, surrounded by laughter and bawdy jokes.

Dark eyes settled on her and she shivered, a pleasing tremor that ran down to her toes in her ridiculously tall heels, as she remembered  _ exactly _ what it felt like to be under him with that intensity staring down at her.

Maybe Tyrion was right.

Jon Snow was trouble. 

And that was exactly what she was looking for.

“My good Sers.” Batting her eyelashes as Loras Tyrell, she moved with precision, knowing there was no point in trying to be coy— everyone had started questioning her as soon as she had set foot in the Storm Lands, Shireen Baratheon and Wylla Manderly looking wide eyed at her exploits— the latter with a hint of jealousy.

It wasn’t her fault none of them had been able to strip him out of his black attire.

Stopping just short of the foot propped up on his knee, she gave him a heated look, a peek down her red dress as she leaned down to nip the glass from his hand. With his eyes glued to her, she tossed it back, pleased when the taste of the Black Rum hit her tongue, lighting a fire on the way down to settle in her belly, combine with lust already living there.

Without a word, she kept the glass and turned, not looking over her shoulder as she left, certain he had gotten the message, and made her way through the party goers, noting Jeyne Westerling’s flashy and overdone gold necklace as she stared longingly at Robb Stark who was completely unaware.

Who wasn’t unaware though, was the rose of Highgarden, the smile on her face as fake as the supposedly diamond earrings in Dany’s ears. But she did notice Marge’s jeweled hair pins glinting under the lights as she paused, touching the other woman on the arm, fingers itching to drift. “He’s not looking at anyone but you.”

The look on Marge’s face softened, a real smile appearing as she tossed her luxurious mane of hair. “Silly thing isn’t it, jealousy? Even though I know exactly where he’s going to end up tonight, I hate anyone else looking at him.”

“Seems reasonable to me.” She offered a careless shrug, kept her itchy fingers to herself and gave a quick glance over her shoulder, confirmed her pursuer was still there. “Now, if you’ll excuse me.”

Marge’s laugh was light. “The gods be good, Daenerys. Are you teasing him?”

Jon had a new, full glass in his hand as he wound through the crowd, nonchalance looking good on him. “No.” She raised up her empty drink. “Just needing myself another round.”

Rather pleased that her game was working, she continued on, leaving Margaery to her laughter. Jon’s eyes followed her every step, heat building inside as she rounded the corner and out of his sight, pulse kicking up as she wondered if he had quickened his steps, if he would chase her down like prey.

That thought thrilled her more than she thought possible and she felt her lips quirk up, and at the sound of foot falls behind her she quickened her pace, another corner taking her from his view. She felt a little lightheaded, the urge to laugh bubbling up in her chest, counting the doors down the corridor until she reached the correct one—

“Are you running from me, Daenerys Targaryen?”

That voice lit a fire inside of her, traveling right down until it settled between her thighs as liquid heat, the air in her lungs suddenly not enough and then he was in her space, not touching but leaning against the dreary walls of the old castle, sharp gaze flitting up and down, smile rather lazily.

It seemed it was time to put him to work.

“No.” She turned, resting against the door, giving him a once over in return, enjoying the game as the lust built, all but visible between them as he waited, impatiently, for her next move. “I was setting a trap, Jon Snow, and you walked right into it.”

_ Something _ flickered in those brown eyes before it was replaced by desire and she barely had time to straighten up before he was closed in on her, the gentle force in which her mouth was taken making her thoughts scatter.

It seemed as if he’d spend the week in a perpetual state of want, also.

She wasn’t sure if he made a noise or if it was her, rough and broken, passing between them in the small space of soft tongues, her knees weakening at the first bold slide, letting the tumbler crash to the floor so her hands could grab ahold of the lapels of his jacket, heels making it less of a strain to reach that giving mouth as he continued to work her over, a hand wrapped loosely against her throat, the other squeezing her arse in a possessive gesture.

Gods be good, that was  _ her  _ whimpering, a hand letting go to reach behind herself, fumbling for the door handle as those sinful lips left hers and traveled with the pleasurable burn of beard down her neck to latch on to her pulse.

If her eyes hadn’t already been closed, they would have rolled back in her head.

Finally, her barely working fingers closed around the knob and the wooden door gave way, laughter breaking loose as they stumbled into the room, the only light cast by the small lamp on the nightstand.

It was enough.

An arm caught her and kept her from crashing to the floor, easily hefting her back to her feet and it was such a disgustingly  _ female  _ response that it made her cunt throb— that she wanted to be manhandled just a little bit  _ more— _ and it was as if he had the same desires, finding herself once again pinned to the now closed door, this time in the privacy of her own room.

There was a wild glint in his eyes, capable hands landing on her thighs and her dress was moving upwards as his lips closed over hers. Gods, he was lean and hard, her body tingling where they were pushed together, his mouth biting and impatient, leaving her head spinning, light of breath. Her own hands grappled with his clothes, a long groan leaving her throat as he hitched her leg over his hip, fingers seeking and finding the wet patch of her flimsy scrap of small clothes.

“Miss me?” There was a smug look on his face when she managed to pry her eyelids open, his mouth as debauched looking as hers felt.

With a pause in their desperation, she sucked in a lungful of air, fingers working quickly, until she had his belt and zipper undone, hand wrapped firmly around him. “I missed what you can do with your cock.” She gave him a squeeze and a stroke, enjoying the rumble in his chest. “Not sure about you yet.”

He laughed, a rusty sound that made her smile even through the lust burning in her veins, his fingers swiping through her soaked offering hidden below fabric, and then he leaned back long enough to rip his jacket off. It was a smooth move that allowed her to work on his shirt buttons until they were undone, and his chest was bared to her sight, a ripple of muscle and hard planes as he leaned forward again, free hand shoving at the straps of her dress.

With the gust of air across bared breasts, he made a greedy noise and suddenly she was sliding up the door, legs closing around the narrow waist, a strong grip around her buttocks holding her there as his mouth found new objects to occupy him, the pleasure of the first drag of his teeth making her anchor himself in his hair, ready to be ravaged and pulled apart, to come undone under his talented ministrations.

“Jon.” It was a breathy request, nipples throbbing wonderfully under the attention, but needing  _ more  _ and she was shifted, chest pressing against sensitive flesh as he caught her mouth with his, suckling at her bottom lip as the weight of his body kept her in place, a hand moving and fumbling, then a familiar sound of foil being ripped— drowned out by ragged breathing and wet kisses.

She was burning with need, the flames out of control as with a tear, the cloth barrier between them was removed, her elbows planted on his shoulders, hands in the riot of curls and she felt him, solid and hard, parting her folds, a high pitched noise of excitement as he loosened his hold, letting her slide down the length of him, unyielding and stretching, the air leaving her lungs in a rush.

“Oh,  _ fuck _ .” Leaning forward she bit his neck, sampling the taste of his flesh and her cunt gripped and grabbed, adjusted to being full. “ _ Yes. _ ”

With a roll of her hips, she encouraged him to move and he didn’t disappoint, a hard thrust making her teeth— and the door— rattle, before he set to fucking her hard, skin sparking where it touched his, pressure and friction and she was wound so tight she knew she would break, she would shatter, unable to do anything but hold on as he settled in to do just that.

It was overwhelming, sensations barely able keep up and register as he pushed and gave, over and over, cunt greedy and grabbing, wrapping tightly around him, not wanting to let go as he ground against her, the fissures and cracks starting with the pressure, her moans becoming sobs as he whispered dirty encouragements in her ear.

She came, pinned between his hard body and hard door, shuddering and splintering, lights bright behind her eyes as pleasure wracked her body, fingernails biting into his skin as his pace picked up, chasing after her until he was stuttering and shaking, his low groan offbeat with the thumping of the door, until he twitched one last time, coming to a halt against her.

Keeping her eyes closed, she listened to their hard breathing, felt the rapid rhythm of her heart, felt his pounding against her skin, the air cool against the slick of sweat, of bodies no longer burning like a forest fire.

“Hmmm.” She tightened her grip as he moved them, stumbling and unsteady, to fall into a graceless pile of limbs on the bed. “Your cock can definitely stay.”

  
  


~*~*~

  
  


She was soft gazed, skin still touched with a flush as he ran his fingers over her spine, the pleased noise she made settling somewhere in his chest, her lazy smile causing his own lips to quirk up in response.

“I wasn’t sure if you’d be here.”

Those were the first real words spoken between the two of them on this night, everything else had been teasing, and then direct— meant to inflame— as he’d talked his way back between her thighs, her pleasure vocalized as he enthusiastically ate her out before spreading her legs even wider and spending himself between them.

Now he was tired and boneless, drawn to the gentle side she was displaying, not the same woman who looked at everyone with a touch of distrust. “I was hoping you would be.”

Her look was pure smugness, her back arching as she rolled herself up on elbows, a low pulse of lust settling in his spine at the sight of her tits, marked up from his beard and mouth. “Were you? Counting on being back in my bed?”

“I think the first time was in mine.” He couldn’t resist, reaching out to palm the soft, giving flesh, torn between wanting to watch her teeth sink into her bottom lip, and the way she fit perfectly into his hand. “But, aye, I was  _ hoping  _ we’d end up back here.”

“It is a much better way to spend our time.” Her eyelashes were fluttering now and he drew his fingers down to find the hardened tip, tug mercilessly at it. “The scandal this is going to be— not even finishing the party before going upstairs and diving into debauchery.”

He snorted, collapsing back on his side, briefly wondering if he’d had enough rest to rally himself to go another round. “If the thing I’m known for is a summer affair with the stunning Daenerys Targaryen, I can live with it.”

The sigh was soft, her head drooping slightly before lifting again, her body collapsing back down and pinning his hand between her and the bed. “And what will you do when summer is over?”

“Go back up North.” Something in those eyes pulled at him, filled him with a melancholy despite sweet the taste of her still lingering on his lips. “Go back to the frigid cold of the Watch.”

“The Night’s Watch?” There was a sharpness in her gaze now, holding him there, making it impossible to look away.

“Aye.” His breath caught as she slowly moved, scooting towards him until she was on her hands and knees, then straddling him, delectable mouth still swollen and pursed.

“Well, we better leave you with enough thoughts of me to keep you warm up there.”

With that, her lips found his clavicle, hair tickling him as the slight weight of her pressed down into him.

And just like that, he felt himself respond, body waking up to do her bidding.

  
  


~*~*~

  
  


Though she’d never admit it, she almost fell asleep beside him, sated and warm, the comfort of his body drawing her in, and she almost tripped as she climbed out of bed, watching him shift before settling back down, soft snores following her as she slipped into the bathroom to transform into a shadow, making sure nothing of her hair was visible.

With her features carefully hidden, she moved silently in the night air, pausing to scoop her fake earrings off the nightstand, staring hesitantly at the silver pocket watch that had been set beside them.

She cursed herself, fingers curling in with her wavering, and she needed to not be so  _ foolish _ , she couldn’t afford to be picky just because she  _ enjoyed _ Jon Snow. Snatching it up without another thought, she crossed the room, confident in Missandei’s timing and skills, letting herself out into the hallway she had been half ravished in just hours prior.

Earlier marks were still visible in her mind’s eye, a carefully constructed map in her head as she lifted the gold necklace, finding the bonus of silver cufflinks beside the jeweled hair pins, nobody stirring with her well practiced moves, a carefully tuned ear listening for household guards.

Evading and silent, she slipped through the cold castle, her bag of stolen goods getting heavier the longer she stayed out until her work was done, a message to her cohorts informing them of her success.

Tyrion was once again in the kitchen, sipping on a glass of red wine, a book spread before him as she came into the room, leaning hip against the counter.

“How are you never a suspect?” She played idly with the object in her pocket, its weight heavier in her mind than in her hand.

“My dear, I’ve been fond of this particular habit while you were still a babe.” He lifted his drink. “Plus, who’s going to look at the dwarf?”

Giving the appropriate scoff, she handed over the items that would help fund the children’s hospital, withdrawing her hand from her pocket without anything in it, ignoring the raised brow of Tyrion as he noted the indecision on her face.

Shaking her head, she turned. “Goodnight Tyrion.”

With his quiet reply at her back, she shifted back through the halls, pausing for a moment at her door, listening for the disturbance of air, relief flooding through her when all she could make out was Jon’s heavy breathing.

Retracing her steps, she made it back into the seclusion of her bathroom, stripping out of her clothing and turning the shirt inside out, the black going to red, not at all suspicious if anyone had the inclination to paw through her belongings.

With guilt clouding her senses, she removed Jon’s pocket watch from her pants, tapping it against her palm as she chided and berated herself, knowing that if her diamond earrings had been stolen, something as valuable as the antique would have been lifted as well. It  _ should _ be on its way to Essos via Yara Greyjoy.

With a huff of frustrated air, she pulled out her makeup case, fingers sliding around the lining until she found the concealed button, pushing it to let the hidden compartment slide out.

Nestling the object safely in there, she closed it again, not letting herself linger on it as she finished up her routine, moving back across the room and pulling back the covers, something inside of her growing warm as an arm reached out and drew her closer.

She’d just enjoy being curled up into him for a few more minutes before waking him up and reminding herself exactly what she was doing with him.

And with that thought in her mind, and the weight of him leaned into her— she fell asleep.


End file.
